


Sometimes, You Just Cannot Talk to Your Brother ~ A SecuriTale One-Shot

by Furostomi-chan (Liebe_chan)



Series: SecuriTale ~ Tales [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, New OC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-07-11 04:42:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7029070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liebe_chan/pseuds/Furostomi-chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short novella, (to ambitious maybe? it is thirty pages though,) set in the SecuriTale AU.<br/>It can be read as a standalone, however some events will be clearer if one were to read the main work this derives from.<br/>Falls a short time after the events in Chapter 9 of Just a Routine Check-Up</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sometimes, You Just Cannot Talk to Your Brother ~ A SecuriTale One-Shot

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s note: This story is based on the Undertale AU, SecuriTale created by the very talented tekitourabbit her amazing work can be found here: http://tekitourabbit.deviantart.com/   
> She also provided some adorable puns and quite a few lines and ideas to this one; thanks for helping me my dear jackalopegirl.  
> Undertale and related characters belong to the amazing Toby “Radiation” Fox
> 
> A note about this story before someone gets their lilly, white panties in a twist:  
> Yes, you may have seen bits of this in tekitourabbit’s comments, and that is because she and I were having a bit of fun. We both agreed that this could be fleshed out as a mad little story, so it is what it is.  
> Also, my apologies to the French language and proper grammar for having Vivien-Hilaire say: “Sang,” when I know full well that Sans is spelled the same in both French and English. However, I felt that it was more important to have the correct French pronunciation, of Sans’ name come across; rather than bending to the will of grammar and propriety.  
> Also, there will be NO apologies for Monsieur Vivien-Hilaire’s personality or beliefs, he is who he is.  
> Two things about this AU:  
> First, Papyrus and Sans are age swapped (Papyrus is the elder.)  
> Second, Sans cannot always talk to his brother.  
> Song for part the first: Skeleton Song - Kate Nash  
> Song for part the second: Sort Of - Ingrid Michaelson  
> Song for the Epilogue: The Poison - All American Rejects (feel free to search for the lyric video)

* * *

_Sometimes You Just Cannot Talk to Your Brother_

* * *

 

* * *

 

**_Part the first_ **

_In the multiverse: There is a happy family, until…_

 

It was late on Saturday afternoon, when Sans finally came down the stairs jumping over the bottom three, which he always claimed were up to something. His clothing was unpressed, as ever, and his socks were a mismatched pair of blue and brown. Sans, behaving as though he had not a care in the world, made his way into the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee. Of course, his early rising brother and her Ladyship were pouring over notes; they most likely had been all day, instead of relaxing like any normal creatures would. The incessant pursuit for organization was something the two bonded over morning and afternoon. Sans decided to ignore them and made his way to the coffee maker, a pale blue blush stained his cheeks as he watched them from the corner of his eye. They were close in a way he did not understand, which sometimes made him uncomfortable; though he did not have any idea why. Papyrus, however, was not ignorant of his brother’s state of dress and decided it was worth commenting on, for what had to be the millionth time; though secretly he did not care, he was just glad his brother was well and whole.

"SANS YOU LAZYBONES, HOW DO MANAGE DAY AFTER DAY TO LOOK LIKE YOU SPENT THE NIGHT AT THE BUS STATION IN YOUR CLOTHES." Sans tuned his brother out for a moment, while he reached into the cabinet above the machine for his favorite cup; a gift from Alphys it said, ‘Only the Bonely Can Play’ and had a skeleton juggling objects in shades of blue, while wearing a jester hat. Gathering his thoughts as he let coffee spill from the pot into his cup; glad that his elder brother while a nag at times, always had a fresh pot of coffee waiting for him day or night.

"...geeze 'pyrus, maybe it's 'cus i was just trying to... **catch** some z's." Papyrus groaned at his brother and made a disgusted face.

"SANS, YOUR PUNS WILL BE THE DEATH OF ME!"

"... aww bro, i'll be sure you don't **pasta** away," Sans began chuckling between sips of coffee. Frisk watched the exchange between the brothers smiling warmly, she still did not understand how the siblings were wont tease one another and still close; her eyes moved from one to another in the hopes of finally grasping the secret to that mysterious bond.

"DEAR GOD, JUST STOP." Papyrus walked over to the oven to check on their dinner, and  when he opened the door, the zesty smell of fine Italian cuisine wafted throughout the kitchen.

"...'k i'll just go **lasagna** couch."

"NO, JUST NO," the elder Bones brother groaned.

“YOU CAN JOKE ABOUT SLEEP AND YOUR POOR EXCUSE FOR AN APPEARANCE, BUT MAKE FUN OF DINNER AND… I WILL HAVE GRILLBY, CUT. YOU. OFF.” Sans mock gasped at the very idea.

"...look 'pyrus i'm sorry, really,” the younger frowned, but his eyes were sparkling with mischief.    

“...ya see it's just that i'm not happy." Papyrus fell for his deception, and rushed to his brothers side looking him over.

"WHAT? OH GOODNESS, THERE MUST BE SOMETHING THAT I CAN DO TO REMEDY THAT. PERHAPS A BROTHERLY HUG?" Sans broke into a huge grin and chanced a wink in Frisk’s direction.

"...uh heh, heh, heh... no but you could help me fold maybe," Sans lighthearted tittering, should have been a dead giveaway to Papyrus that he was being duped.

"AH, I WOULD BE GLAD TO. DOING CHORES TOGETHER IS THE TRUE KEY TO BROTHERLY BONDING. WHAT ARE WE FOLDING?" Papyrus took the bait like a hungry fish, and the younger brother’s smile widened giving him the appearance of a cheshire cat.

"...my origami clothing, it always looks **creased** no matter how carefully I fold it."

“THAT IS IT, I AM LEAVING,” Papyrus shouted, slamming his notebook onto the counter and walking out of the kitchen. Though if one were observant, one might notice Papyrus’ back as he strode away shaking with concealed mirth.

"...bro come back, i can be **punnier**."

“SANS,” Papyrus shouted as he rounded to face his brother, a twisted smirk beneath narrowed eyes revealed he was not as put out as he let on. The two glared daggers at one another, each daring the other with their eyes to break into a fit of laughter. Suddenly, their staring contest no longer mattered, when their female companion swiftly let loose tinkling merriment, the resonance of wind chimes in a high breeze; a sound which lightened both their hearts for different reasons. Each brother’s cheekbones was graced with a gentle blush, at being caught at their game, when the looked upon their dear Lady.

*I see you are at it again, my silly guards,* she signed her voice still occupied by sweet giggles.

*But Sans, my dear, you should not **SHIRT** on your responsibilities, Papyrus cannot do all of the housework himself! He is right, doing chores together provides for a more fruitful experience...I find the thought rather a- **PEEL** -ing!* Frisk smiled at first the younger and then the elder, challenging them with her words. The Ambassador wished to join in their game of wits and the siblings nodded at her jovially, if she wished to join they would watch her hands.

“SANS NOW YOU HAVE DONE IT, YOU HAVE INFECTED THE HUMAN WITH PUNS!”

“... sorry that you find this such a **strain** bro.”

“FIND WHAT A STRAIN?”

“...the discovery of new **viruses**.”

*Such discoveries could cause anyone **STRAIN** ,* Frisk proposed.

"PLEASE, I JUST CANNOT TAKE ANY MORE."

"... then howsa 'bout i **give** ya a piece of my mind."

*I have been cheap in the past, but I can **GIVE** my two cents,* Frisk suggested.

"SANS, I WILL GIVE YOU A PIECE OF MY MIND IF YOU DO NOT IRON YOUR SHIRT,” Papyrus snarled at his brother, but then smiled at Frisk.

“WELL JAPED MY LADY, YOU ARE IMPROVING.”

*Those who like to do the **IRONING** find their pleasure in **CREASES**.* Frisk lost it at that point, her fits of giggles had her incapacitated to continue the game.

“...but bro, **irona** go to bed.”

“LORD HELP ME! SANS YOU JUST GOT UP.” Papyrus scolded his brother, but grinned at his dear human.

“SORRY MY LADY YOU ARE OUT.” The elder Bones then gave the younger a verbal challenge.

“FORFEIT, OR FACE MY WRATH.”

“...but 'pyrus i need my pillow so i won't be **down** in the mouth.”

“OKAY, YOU HAVE FORCED ME TO TAKE DRASTIC MEASURES, I AM INVITING JERRY TO DINNER.” Papyrus pulled out his mobile and shook it menacingly, causing his bones to rattle in the process.

“...what?!? please no, anything but that! i'll be good!”

“YOU HAVE MADE YOUR **BED** NOW **LIE** IN IT,” Papyrus quipped, before realising his mistake. It was too late he had his younger brother in a fit of giggles.

“... heh, hehe, heh... bro that was awesome!”

“OH NO, NOW I AM INFECTED!”

“...welp i couldn't do this all **viruself.** ” Papyrus gave a groaning sigh.

“MY LOT IN LIFE IS DREADFUL.”

“...it could be worse bro.”

“HOW SO?”

“... it... heh, it could be **waffle**.” Papyrus quickly dialed the threatened punishment and then blithely jumped backward onto a kitchen chair, increasing his height exponentially.

“HELLO JERRY, THIS IS PAPYRUS.” There was a pause as Papyrus attended to the other end of the line.

“YES, OF COURSE **_THAT_ ** PAPYRUS. ERR… LOOK WOULD YOU LIKE TO COME OVER FOR DINNER!” Sans danced around the chair, hopping from foot to foot like a small child.

“...big brother, NO, no stop!” While the elder tormented the younger, her Ladyship’s merriment echoed throughout the room; giving evidence to the happy family that they were.

“WE WILL EXPECT YOU AT HALF PAST SEVEN, JERRY,” Papyrus paused once more to listen, and while doing so managed to nudge a capering Sans to the floor with a gentle kick.

“WELL, IF YOU DO BRING WINE, PLEASE BRING SOMETHING RESPECTABLE… NO, IT IS NOT. NOT IF IT COMES IN A BOX.” Papyrus rolled his eyes and climbed down from the chair to sit in it; he continued to poke his brother in the ribs with a stockinged foot.

“JERRY I DO NOT CARE HOW LONG IT HAS BEEN IN YOUR REFRIGERATOR… UGH, NO THAT DOES NOT MAKE IT WELL AGED.” Sans took the opportunity to grasp his brother’s foot and began tickling him mercilessly. Papyrus began to snort most uncouthly into the phone.

“...JERRY, JUST BE HERE AT,” Papyrus gasped for breath and pulled the phone away from his face.

“SANS… STOP,” the merriment of tenor bells rang from Papyrus’ mouth.

“SO HELP ME BABY BONES, I AM ON THE PHONE.” Sans stopped tickling his brother, but did not let go of his foot. Papyrus returned his attention to the phone call.

“JERRY,” he sighed, “YOU KNOW WHAT, JUST BRING YOURSELF. HOWEVER, PREPARE TO BE THOROUGHLY ENTERTAINED, FOR I THE GREAT PAPYRUS, HAVE MADE A DINNER FIT FOR THE KING HIMSELF. NO, **_HALF PAST SEVEN_ **. ALRIGHT SEE YOU THEN JERRY, GOODBYE.” Papyrus set his phone on the table and gave his younger brother another playful shove, effectively knocking him onto his back; he then turned to address his Lady.

“MY DEAR HUMAN, WHAT IS IT? WHY DO YOU STILL LAUGH?”

*Oh... Oh my goodness,Papyrus, we may need to take YOU to the doctor next time,* she signed between fits and smiled up at her elder guardian, who was still seemed tall as he had been when she was but a wee thing.

“DOCTOR... OH HA, HA. HOW DROLL HUMAN. OBVIOUSLY BECAUSE OF THIS PUN-FECTION I HAVE, CORRECT? WELL, WE ALL KNOW I AM THE HEIGHT OF PUN-FECTION.” Frisk sobered slightly before glancing down at the younger, who was still seated on the floor.

*We should have you looked over as well, Sans. Especially after those nasty breaks from the tunnel, which I cannot apologise enough for. Oh, but do not worry, I shall avert my eyes when it comes to looking at your X-rays. I now understand why there was such a hassle last time we went to the human hospital!*

Sans did not laugh, but paled considerably, which was odd since being a skeleton it should have been impossible. He dropped his brother’s foot, rather unceremoniously, then scooted quickly across the the floor until he backed into the cabinet.

“OUCH, SANS, DO BE CAREFUL.”

“...i’m um… sorry... sorry papyrus... i uh… that is to say i... um. ya know what kid don't sweat it, heh. ...i'm jus' gonna go have a smoke out back. um, yeah... then um... ya know what i'm going to grillby's... uh, 'pyrus you want anything,” he had a really odd look on his face, right before he stopped making eye contact with either of them. Sans stood gracelessly and started backing toward the kitchen door which lead to the backyard.

“SANS, WHAT AN ODD THING TO SAY AND RUDE TOO. AFTER I JUST INVITED JERRY,” Papyrus cocked his head, watching his brother’s escape with deep concern and bitter amusement.

“I HAVE LASAGNA IN THE OVEN.”

“...i just remembered i... i'm not hungry. yeah that’s it… i had a-a hoagie and popato chisps for lunch and i... um, just really need to go...go to the store, yeah that's it i'm... um outa bones, their matter collapsed. can't smoke without smokes... uh... amiright?” Sans reached behind himself for the  doorknob, he hit himself in the shoulder with the door and tripped around it; walking out, without either shoes or jacket and slamming the door behind him.

“SANS? SANS, WHEN DID YOU HAVE LUNCH,” Papyrus called after his brother.

“WELL THAT WAS _ODD_... HUMAN, WE MUST PREPARE, JERRY IS COMING FOR DINNER.” The lead Agent smiled with his mouth, but frowned toward the door with his eyes.

“I… THAT IS TO SAY, I AM SURE THAT SANS WILL RETURN LATER, BUT FOR NOW HUMAN FRISK, LET US SET THE TABLE.”

*Papyrus, he forgot his shoes…* Frisk felt a moment of confusion at Sans’ departure. Though more and more lately, especially after her runaway attempt and near kidnapping, he would say or do odd things; only to leave awkwardly a moment later. She shrugged, it was just Sans being Sans she supposed.

*We shall have to toss those socks or wash them very well when he gets back.* Papyrus was only half watching what Frisk signed, before she turned to head for the very long cabinet under the sink. Frisk pulled out an extra large box of tissues and a spare trash can, which she set on the counter and the floor respectively.

*I do hope we can teach Jerry to wipe his hands and blow his nose into THESE,* she then held up the tissues, *and then properly discard the soiled items in THIS.* Frisk then picked up the trash can from the floor and waived it in the air.

*Would it be too ambitious to expect him to utilise silverware, or am I overdoing it… Papyrus, Papyrus are you listening?*

“I FOR ONE VOTE FOR BURNING THE SOCKS.” Papyrus said absently, his eyes lingered at the closed door a moment longer, his brother’s outbursts were becoming more obvious by the day, it was not a wonder that there were quiet rumors circulating in the monster community. At least to Papyrus’ relief his brother’s circle of friends was small and each was well known to him, well all but one; which reminded him to make a phone call. The tall skeleton let go of his woolgathering, before smiling down at Frisk.

“A WISE CHOICE HUMAN, BOTH OF THOSE ITEMS WILL COME IN HANDY. ONE CAN ONLY HOPE THAT JERRY'S MANNERS HAVE IMPROVED SINCE THE LAST TIME HE JOINED US FOR DINNER. PERHAPS A DROP CLOTH BENEATH THE TABLE WOULD BE IDEAL. I DO BELIEVE THERE IS ONE IN THE GARAGE,” he tapped his finger on his chin in thought and closed his eyes a moment.

“HMMM, PERHAPS IT WOULD BE BETTER TO UTILIZE PLASTIC DINNERWARE AND THE TABLE ON THE PATIO, THEN THERE WOULD BE NO NEED TO STERILIZE THE HOUSE, AGAIN. YES, THAT WAY THE SUN AND SOME BLEACH WILL BE ALL THAT IS REQUIRED TO... DECONTAMINATE THE PICNIC TABLE, EVERYTHING ELSE CAN GO IN THE TRASH.” Papyrus nodded at his own genius.

“COME DEAR HUMAN. WE MUST PREPARE, FOR JERRY WILL BE HERE MOMENTARILY.” Papyrus pointed the refrigerator.

“I WANT YOU TO MAKE AN UNDRESSED SALAD,” he commanded, expecting Frisk to follow his instructions, as he picked up his phone.

“THE VEGETABLES ARE IN THE CRISPER… ALREADY SLICED.”

*Papyrus, where are **_you_ ** going,* Frisk asked, before reaching into the cupboard for a large bowl. He smiled at the young woman gently, before saying.

“I JUST REALIZED, I NEED TO MAKE AN IMPORTANT PHONE CALL, PERHAPS MORE THAN ONE. SO, MY DEAR FRISK WHEN THE TIMER RINGS: TURN OFF THE OVEN, SET THE LASAGNA ON THE TABLE, AND COVER THE TOP WITH FOIL.” The young woman set the bowl on the table before responding.

*Alright, I hope that you will not be long. Shall I set the table outside?*

“YES. HOWEVER, DO NOT FORGET YOUNG LADY, YOU ARE STILL GROUNDED SO NO LEAVING THE YARD. **NOT** EVEN TO PLAY WITH THE TINY HUMANS WHO LIVE NEXT DOOR.”

Papyrus, walked out of the kitchen dialing his phone. He headed for the small library, which doubled as a study, to complete his calls with a modicum of privacy; considering how sharp the Ambassador’s ears were. While waiting for the first call to ring through, Papyrus wondered briefly if he was being fair to his brother, by prying into what little private life Sans had; he decided it was his prerogative as the elder brother to be concerned.

“HELLO, UNDYNE? OH, GOOD EVENING ALPHYS… NO, YOU WILL DO NICELY, NOW I DO NOT HAVE TO MAKE AS MANY CALLS. ...I NEED TO KEEP THIS BRIEF, IF MY BROTHER SHOWS UP THERE WILL YOU GIVE ME A CALL? ...THE LAB AT THIS HOUR, WHY? ...NEVERMIND, JUST IF EITHER OF YOU SEE HIM PROMISE YOU WILL CALL? ...ALRIGHT, THANK YOU GOOD BYE,” he rang off, and decided to call Grillby’s next. The phone rang a long while, it was Saturday evening after all, he was about to hang-up, when a young woman answered.

“HELLO ÁEDÁN,” Papyrus laughed halfheartedly, “YES, THAT IS EXACTLY WHY I AM CALLING. IS HE THERE?... OH, WELL IF YOU SEE HIM… YES, ALRIGHT THANK YOU… YOU HAVE A WONDERFUL EVENING AS WELL” He ended another fruitless call. Usually, he had a bead on his brother by now, but there were still three more calls to place before he needed to worry. He walked out of the library-cum-study, as the timer rang in the kitchen.

“MY LADY, I AM STILL ON THE PHONE. PLEASE DO NOT NEGLECT THE LASAGNA.” Papyrus made his way to the mudroom, to check Sans’ jacket pocket for the younger’s mobile; when he reached into the pocket not only was the phone there, but a quick check demonstrated Sans had not charged the device in a while. Now Papyrus, miffed though he was, had one less call to make. The elder Bones decided to try calling Sans’ office at the computer lab. Though Papyrus doubted he would hide there, he dialed anyway. The line rang for a long time, and Papyrus returned to the semi private study. Finally, there was an answer on the other end.

“...sans bones, tech support… how can i help you?” The sound of typing could be heard in the background.

“OH THANK GOODNESS SANS, I WAS WORRIED YOU WOULD MISS DINNER.” There was an inordinately long pause.

“SANS?”

“...he heh he, got ya papyrus, or whomever… sorry i’m away from my desk please leave a message at the tone, and _maybe_ i’ll get back to you tomorrow,” there was an annoyingly loud air horn followed by more laughter, and Papyrus hung up angrily.

“DAMN!” Papyrus scrolled through his contacts for a moment, before ringing the last person. The line rang but a moment, before it was answered.

“BONSOIR MONSIEUR BEUAMI, THIS IS PAPYRUS BONES. WE NEED TO TALK...”

 

* * *

 

**_Part the second_ **

_In the multiverse: It is easy to be both lost and found._

 

Meanwhile, in an angsty, much ediger part of town, Sans Bones rejoined the material world when he teleported right in front of a glazed shop door. Above the door hung a rolled up awning which announced _Tobacconist_ in large gold letters and below in a delicate silver script _Marchand de Tabac_.

Sans looked up at the awning and remembered the first time he visited the quaint little shop and met its eccentric owner…

He had been holding a neatly folded letter, written in a scrawled french script:

Mon cher cousin Vivien,

Je l'espère, cette lettre vous trouve bien. Je vous ai trouvé un nouveau client, un jeune homme digne de confiance, mais un peu sur le côté timide, peut-être vous pouvez faire un nouvel ami, qui sait? Je suis convaincu que vous êtes celui qui peut l'aider à obtenir ce dont il a besoin. Je sais que les Américains ont fait du mal à obtenir des kreteks, bien que c'est exactement ce que ce garçon maigre veut. Son nom est Sans, et il est le plus jeune des deux frères; l' aîné Papyrus est nommé; vous aurez sans doute le rencontrer aussi bien , il est très protecteur de son frère cadet.

Ils sont les agents et les gardiens de l'ambassadeur des monstres. Ces gens-là vivent pas loin de toi près du mont Ebott . Ne laissez pas sa surprise de l'apparence que vous, le corps abrite l'âme douce. Ne pas attendre si longtemps pour me écrire cousin, ou au moins me téléphoner pour que je sais que vous êtes bien .

Avec la plus profonde affection, votre cousin,  
Gaël  

Sans had opened the door and was startled by tinkling bells.

“...bonjour? i‘m looking for monsieur vivien-hilaire beuami, um… monsieur gaël berger sent me with a letter,” Sans had indeed appeared shy, though the reason would have surprised both French gentlemen; humans made Sans nervous.

“Un moment s'il vous plait,” came a shout from somewhere through the door behind the counter. There was the sound of someone coming down a set of creaky stairs, then shuffling footsteps across linoleum, and finally the door behind the counter opened to reveal an older gentleman in a starched white shirt.

“I am Vivien-Hilare. So, you have a letter for me do you,” the man had smiled warmly at Sans and it surprised the monster, most of the humans in the town surrounding Mount Ebott were, not so kind.

“Oui… uh, i mean yes, here,” Sans passed the letter over the counter and chanced a glance around the shop. Display cases filled with pipes gleamed against one wall and humidors with boxes of cigars lined the other.

“Relax my friend, I don’t bite,” Monsieur Vivien-Hilaire laughed as he unfolded the letter and adjusted his glasses. The tobacconist scanned the letter twice and then refolded it and tucked it into his shirt pocket.

“So, your name is Monsieur Sang, huh? You do not quite look vacant, but like someone got a rather good start.” Sans smiled, laughed gently and looked a bit more at ease.

“...yeah, i… i’m sans, sans bones. did the letter say i liked jokes, or somethin’?”

“No, but I do. I find them to be good icebreakers, and obviously you do as well since your surname is a pun.” The gentleman smiled at him again and Sans gave a crooked smirk back.

“So, you are looking for a way to get your hands on kretek? The Americans have banned them, though there are ways around that. I have to tell you it shan’t be cheap and despite what my cousin says, I do not know you. So, I will require payment up front before I take a risk.”

“...oh, that’s ok. i… uh i don’t mind, small price to pay to get what i want.”

“You won’t say so when I quote you the price, though if you order cartons we can work out a deal. Five cartons is the minimum carton order.” Vivien-Hilaire said straight forwardly, he was a businessman after all. Sans grinned broadly.

“...ok, five cartons sounds good.”

“Twenty-five dollars a carton and that does not include the shipping, tax, and duties; those you pay on pickup, and you take the merchandise regardless of condition. I suggest that you learn to roll cigarettes if you do not already know,” he waved his hand over several varieties of cigarette paper on the counter.

“...i do know, monsieur gaël taught me when i accidentally… uh, damaged a pack i bought from him,” Sans shrugged nonchalantly. He was relaxing more the longer he spoke with Vivien-Hilaire.

“...what did gaël have to say about me, um… if ya don’t mind me asking.”

“Nothing, I could not see for myself, though he did say you have an older brother and quite the job.”

“...yeah my brother and i are the security detail for Ambassador Frisk Dreemurr.”

“So, you have a brother, a difficult job and you smoke kretek, but the real question is do you have a girlfriend?”

“...um… uh, i uh...” Sans stuttered nervously.

“So, there is a girl, and she doesn’t know you are sweet on her!”

“...yeah,” Sans said softly before backtracking, “...uh i mean no, no, NO… there isn’t a girl!”

“To late to deny it my friend, now you have to tell me...”

 

Sans shook his head to clear his mind of memories and reached for the door pulling it toward himself; the tinkling of bells announced his presence to the shopkeep who came out of the back room, phone in hand.

"... bonjour vivien-hilaire, ya got those smokes for me? i've been dying for these coffin nails." Sans baritone was jovial enough, but his ever present smile faltered.

"Hoho, Monsieur Sang, your jokes never get old like my flame, but to answer your question my friend I do indeed have them." The older gentleman slipped his phone into a pocket, then reached beneath the counter and pulled out a nondescript box wrapped in brown paper.

"You know my friend, these are getting harder to get past customs. I am so sorry, but I will have to charge you double from the last time. Perhaps you should try, a more domestic choice?" Sans chuckled as he pulled out his wallet, and shook his head.

"...kretek is my vice, it's that or nothin' and today i really need them. look hilaire, if this is going to be a problem i can find another source." Vivien-Hilaire laughed as he took Sans' money.

"Are you kidding? Who would tell me jokes and liven up what would be, no doubt, my rather boring day?"

"...true," Sans tore at the brown paper to get at the treasure inside.

"...oh god, they have done it again hilaire... who comes up with these disgusting pictures?"

"No doubt the Indonesian Ministry of Health, mon Dieu... those are pretty bad, thank God the Americans haven’t caught on to this trend." The tobacconist, picked up one of Sans five cartons and glared at the pictures of a lung autopsy, rotting teeth and coughing babies.

"These are bad for business. I keep telling you to invest in a good cigarette case, I think you would damage fewer boxes if you did."

"...hell i don't care hilaire, heh i don't even have lungs. though you are right about the damage i do," once more Sans laughed, but it sounded false and hollow.

"Ah, this is very true Sang. Look my friend I was about to close up, why don’t you stay for tea and we can talk about our femelle troubles." The young Agent did not look his older friend in the eye when he responded.

"...what makes ya think i got, uh... femelle troubles?” The older man ran his fingers through brown hair peppered with gray and said sagely.

“That look on your face my friend, that is the face of a man who has been, eh... how you say? Ah, ‘friend zoned’ one time too many. Though perhaps tea is too weak for our conversation, non?” Vivien-Hilaire grinned at his skeletal friend.

"I know you have a penchant for ketchup, but my friend have you ever had a Bloody Mary?" Sans smiled weakly at the only human he knew, aside from Frisk.

“...i knew there was a reason i liked ya hilaire. and is that a human beverage, 'cus i can't say that i've had the pleasure.”

“Ah friend, you are in for a treat... this drink is like ketchup died and saw the face of Mère de Dieu herself. Come my friend, we must get you properly drunk, or at least make a good start.” The older man came from behind the counter to lock the shop door, and then tugged his thin friend by the arm toward the back of the shop. Through the door, there was a small kitchenette with a gas fireplace, and a set of stairs against the back wall that lead up to Vivien-Hilaire’s modest apartment above the shop. Sans had visited with the tobacconist before, and had enjoyed several quiet evenings around his fire; with as many responsibilities as the young Agent had, Vivien-Hilaire’s kitchen was a good place to hide from them, and his brother.

“So Sang, tell me, how is your girl,” the older man headed to his modest refrigerator to pull out: tomato juice, worcestershire sauce, horseradish and tabasco; while Sans leaned against the counter.

“...she’s not my girl, not really, hilaire… sometimes she doesn’t even notice i’m there.” The tobacconist clucked his tongue while he set the ingredients on the counter.

“The more important question is does she notice another, her Ladyship is at that age after all.”

“...no, not that i’ve noticed anyway,” Sans made a face that indicated to his friend, exactly what would happen to another male that did show interest in Frisk Dreemurr.

“...she… uh, she sometimes calls me her “dear,” but when she says that and then says, or does somethin’ to show she’s not happy with me… ugh, i just get more confused.” Vivien-Hilaire chuckled gently and reached into the cabinet above for paprika, pepper and celery salt.

“Ahh, youth. Your girl, she sounds like my Madeline,” the older man indicated a photograph that Sans had noticed on his many visits.

“God rest her soul. My girl, she was my eternal torment when we met I was but a boy of ten and she was six. She always called me ‘Vivien, my dear one.’ I pined for that girl,” the older man reached behind his spectacles to wipe away a tear.

“Loving her was torture and still is, it seemed she was always teasing me. One moment it was “my dear one” and the next it was “do not say such things.” Ah, la femme si confus et pourtant si nécessaire.” He laughed again at his own wit.

“She teases yet! She had the nerve to go home first, and I hoped we would go together.” Vivien-Hilaire pointed at the cabinet above Sans.

“The large pitcher and two tall glasses are in there my friend, you know the ones.” Sans turned and opened the cupboard.

“...sounds just like frisk, but it doesn’t feel like teasing,” he grumbled reaching into the cabinet.

“...these, right hilaire,” Sans asked, pulling out a beautifully trimmed Italian set of blown glasses with their matching pitcher.

“Oui, only the finest for my friend and might I add best customer,” Vivien-Hilaire reached for the pitcher and Sans set the glasses on the small round table before taking a seat to watch his older friend make the offered drinks. The gentleman headed back to the icebox for the ice and grabbed a fresh lime from the windowsill. Dumping the ice into the pitcher, he deftly pulled a cutting board and knife from the drainboard, and began cutting the lime.

“Rim the glasses with that my friend and then roll them in the salt,” Vivien-Hilaire said, setting the knife in the sink, before passing Sans the cutting board, a small plate and the celery salt.

“...hilaire, this is too much,” Sans said as he began rimming and salting the glasses.

“How many times must I tell you, that is nonsense my Sang, my home is your home. That reminds me, I have a plate of sandwiches in the réfrigérateur. Get them will you? Can’t send you home with an empty stomach, that brother of yours would never forgive me.”

“...oh, you’ve met my bro since i was here last, huh? maybe i should go...”

“Squelette ridicule, your brother is a very good man, non? If you were mon petit frère, I would be sure to know who your friends were as well; he was right to come and talk with me. Though, I am sure he will return; we only met the once. Beside, I look forward to meeting him again, he is an interesting fellow.”

“...hmmm,” Sans offered noncommittally, opening the refrigerator to grab a plate of lovely sandwiches which were clearly purchased from Muffet’s.

“Now, now my friend Sang, do not be like that, we have much to drink and discuss,” the older man washed his hands at the sink, before reaching for a spoon to stir the now full pitcher.

“Bring out the celery while you are in there, it is on the bottom shelf.”

“...’k.”

“Alright, now for the pièce de résistance,” he said setting the pitcher on the table; as he headed for a small sideboard with a shelf above it reaching for a bottle of clear, distilled and obviously French vodka. Vivien-Hilaire twisted off the cap opening the bottle to the air, before pouring a generous amount into the pitcher.

“Have you ever had alcohol my friend?” Sans shrugged as he resumed his seat at the table.

“...uh, a few times… my brother really doesn’t approve though. he says, ‘it drys out the bones.’ if he had his way i’d only drink milk. so, only at a few functions when i wasn’t on duty.” Sans impression of his brother took the old tobacconist by surprise.

“Mon Dieu, my friend I thought your brother was in the room with us,” he chuckled while breaking off two celery stalks, placing one in each glass along with a slice of lime. Sans merely laughed.

“...don’t tell him that. he hates when i do it, but to be fair when he gets really mad he can do it too; sounds just like me.”

“Impressive,” Vivien-Hilaire said, raising an eyebrow while filling Sans’ glass and then his own.

“Go on my friend don’t be shy, _à cheval donné on ne regarde pas les dents_ _,_ have a drink and unwrap the sandwiches,” the tobacconist meanwhile took a couple of plates down from yet another cabinet and set one before his guest, before placing one before himself and taking a seat. Sans unwrapped the plate and set a sandwich before his friend before taking one for himself.

“...you really like these hilaire? doesn’t monster food disagree with you,” Sans asked before taking a bite of what appeared to be a snail and cucumber sandwich.

“Are you kidding my friend, these are the best example of fine French cuisine in this town. I love the escargot, so long as it is well seasoned. Is it true, what I heard, that Mademoiselle Muffet has taken to growing her own fresh vegetables,” the tobacconist wondered; before taking a bite of what looked to Sans like grilled cheese and snail, with tomato.

“...yeah hilaire, she’s got a garden out back and everything.”

“I wonder how she will fare come winter.” Sans took a drink, then smiled warmly at his friend.

“...say this _is_ good. muffet was talking about building a greenhouse, though some of the members of the city council are giving her a hard time ‘bout her garden already. frisk has been helping her, but there are still a lot of people here that want us to return to the underground.” Vivien-Hilaire shook his head angrily, and tisked loudly.

“Merde, when will people see reason? Most likely when Fils de Dieu makes His return.” Sans laughed loudly.

“...yeah, it’d no doubt take a miracle.” Vivien-Hilare nodded while topping of Sans’ drink and then his own.

“This is true. Now my friend enough of this gossip, we were speaking of your girl.”

“...i told you she isn’t MY girl,” Sans defended.

“I have to say, she is teasing you. Though, she just may not realise it yet, but if she did not care for you I believe you would know; as hard as it would be I think you would find another.”

“...i don’t think i could. i wouldn’t know how,” the young Agent whispered, before taking another drink.

“Let me ask you this, have you ever heard the term, soulmates?” Sans nearly dropped his glass and coughed as he choked on what he was swallowing, before asking.

“...what? what did you say hilaire,” Sans could not believe his ossicles he did not know humans believed in such things.

“I said, **soulmates** , and it seems to me you have heard such a term, judging by your reaction. It is rare in this day and age my friend, but it still happens and there are those of us who still believe in such things. You said she expresses an interest in no other, correct?”

“...yeah,” the young Agent responded with hope filled eyes.

“She is still young by human standards, are you willing to be patient my friend? After all a full bloom is better than a bud.”

“...hilaire, i would wait forever.” Sans sighed dreamily and Vivien-Hilaire laughed.

“As I said, soulmates. However, she may not know it, what will you do if she never realises and chooses another?” Sans put his head in his hands and he shook his head to indicate the negative.

“...i honestly don’t know,” he answered, his voice muffled by his hands, “...i think it would kill me.” The older man took another drink and shook his head.

“I felt the same way about Madeline, oh the boys that would follow her. It drove me mad, Sang, but you know in the end it was all worth it.”

“...how so?” Sans sat up, unable to imagine how other guys chasing after Frisk could be worth it in any way.

“Because my friend, in the end it was only me that she truly loved; despite the fact that we only had thirty years together, ah but those years they were good. We were soulmates, God blessed us and we were happy. After all do you see any other girls around here?” Sans looked at his friend and shook his head, chewing thoughtfully before replying.

“...nope, but i heard missus mason is pretty sweet on you.”

“Ugh, that prejudiced old bat! Merde,” Vivien-Hilaire swore before reaching for a second sandwich.

“I would sooner burn all my merchandise,”

“...that, would be a pretty expensive fire hilaire.” Sans helped himself to another sandwich as well, only this time he had the grilled snail and cheese.

“Listen to me my friend, if I told you that another girl were sweet on you, right now, how would you feel?” Sans groaned, then took long drink before answering.

“...i… i don’t know, weird, i guess? i never really thought much about girls, or stuff like that before frisk. there aren’t many… well any, monsters that would have been, or are interested in a short, skinny guy like me… not that i’ve always been skinny. and frisk was the first girl to… to be nice to me.” The gentleman refilled their glasses once more and nodded.

“If you don’t mind my asking, are you and your brother the only skeleton monsters? I have not seen any others in town, while there seem to be many of the other types of monsters.” Sans set his sandwich down on the plate before him and shrugged.

“...i guess not, i mean i really don’t know, and my brother never says anything about it. a lot of people in snowdin, that’s the town where we lived underground, said we just showed up one day. though i don’t ever remember living anywhere else, i suppose i was really young when we moved there,” Sans shrugged again and then took another drink before continuing.

“...for as long as i can remember it’s been just me and papyrus, he’s always looked after me. even though i was and still am a little shit.”

“I do not doubt that, and what you have told me explains why your brother is so protective of you; if you are truly the last of your kind.” Vivien-Hilaire downed his drink and then refilled both Sans and his glasses, emptying the pitcher.

“...thanks hilaire, this is great.” Sans raised his glass in salute.

“...ya know, you are making my brother and i sound like an endangered species, but really we are monsters like any other monsters.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” the tobacconist said with a shake of his head.

“Your brother and yourself are unique in all the world, Sang. Remember that, the next time you want to try one of your stupid stunts.” Sans opened his mouth to protest, but his human friend stopped him.

“Do not bother to deny it. I may be old but I still pay attention to the newsfeed. I saw the damage you sustained despite your brother trying to keep the cameras away. I cannot imagine how much it hurt him that you were so injured.” Sans frowned looking like he had lost his best friend.

“...i… i’ve been avoiding him. he didn’t even yell at me, and i know he watched over me those eight days i was unconscious.” Vivien-Hilaire gasped.

“Eight days my friend? I did wonder where you were keeping yourself.” Sans nodded.

“...yeah, eight days.” Sans shivered visibly and his friend puzzled over the look on the young Agent’s face.

“...papyrus, he… he always looks out for me. this afternoon before i came over we goofed around like old times,” Sans groaned and put his head in his hands.

“...until i ran away.” Vivien-Hilaire laughed sonorously.

“Sang for shame, a big boy like you running away from home. Why would you do such a thing?”

“...one guess,” Sans let out a soft sob.

“The Lady Frisk, no doubt.”

“...she mentioned somethin’ embarrassing i did... i uh, lost control. she just... has the best bone structure though.” Sans put head in his hands on the table, shaking with silent sobs.

“...OH MY GOD i’m such a letch.” The older man reached across the table, to gently pat his young friend on the shoulder.

“...i… i couldn’t be her soulmate. she… she’s just so,” he sighed, “... so perfect. a-and i… i, well look at me. like i said hilaire no one has ever wanted me, i doubt anyone ever could.”

“You give yourself so little credit, I wonder why that is. Do you want to know what I see when I look at you my friend?” Vivien-Hilaire smiled; as Sans lifted his head from the table, slightly, tears in his eyes.

“...i’m afraid.”

“Do not be, Sang. When I look at you, I see a fine young man. One with a beautiful soul, who will one day take a wife, and have all the love he deserves. All the the love he is truly worthy of.” Sans sat up further and began to shake his head in protest, but the old tobacconist wagged a scolding finger at the young monster.

“You are a good boy Sang and a fine friend, why you do not see this I do not understand. I know your brother sees this. He shows you this, so why my friend? Help me to understand.” Sans shrugged his shoulders defeatedly, but managed to look his friend in the eyes.

“...i… i just don’t know. i just feel… ugh i’m not like my brother he can wear his heart on his sleeve. he is so brave, so strong... rejection doesn’t seem to phase him. when i want to explain how i feel it just comes out all wrong. then i either tell a joke to cover my mistake or,” he paused sighing sadly.

“...i run away.” Vivien-Hilaire laughed merrily once more, and Sans cheeks colored a pale blue.

“Do not mistake my laughter for mockery my friend. I am remembering a time when I too would run, rather than face my Madeline or worse yet my sisters. Those Angels, ah they would have such advice for me, but all of it wrong.”

“...then hilaire, whadda i do if there is no good advice,” the young monster asked, wishing with all his heart he could be just a bit more like his older brother.

“There may never be good advice on matters of love, but perhaps you can listen to an old man who has been there and knows what it is like?”

“...alright.” Sans nodded and the older man looked right into the younger’s eyes.

“First of all, you are in love and that is the most wonderful thing that can happen to anyone, man or monster. Love is **not** a joke my friend, so if someone gives you a hard time hold your head high.” Vivien-Hilaire smiled, glad he had the young Agent’s full attention.

“The second thing to remember is, there are many kinds of love. There is the malicious love which one can use to raise their own status. This first type of love, will destroy you from within and could potentially be used to harm another, even the object of your affection.”

“...hilaire, that type of LOVE is frowned upon where i’m from. i’m not even sure i’d be capable of that type.”

“That is good Sang, I knew you were a good boy.” The tobacconist patted Sans’ shoulder once more.

“Well then, we should speak of the second type, the beautiful love that comes from all that is admirable in one’s soul. This love, will make you stronger if you water it with all that is good inside of yourself. It will make you courageous, and grant you wisdom and sound judgment.”

“...how hilaire, i mean, i’d like to believe i’m a good judge of character, but how can love make me brave?”

“When you love so deeply and with such passion, even when it is not returned, it makes a change in you. It can make you **more** than you ever dreamed possible.” The older gentleman ran his fingers through hair touched by time, then said.

“Remember, she whom you love is the best and most beautiful in all the world, and it does not hurt to tell her so. However, if your girl is shy and as easily flustered as you are, then perhaps you should remember that before you say something you might regret.”

“...i’ll do my best hilaire,” the young monster said, with a deeper blush of mazarine gracing his cheekbones. Vivien-Hilaire nodded sagely, then took a long drink emptying his glass before dispensing his final bit of wisdom.

“Good, Sang, good! But, I must warn you my friend if you become jealous even the best love can become a dark and twisted thing. There are those who know how to find such darkness, and manipulate it. Then, such a dark love can be used against everyone and everything you hold dear.” Sans shivered, as though a goose had walked over his grave. The thought of anyone using his love against his brother, Frisk, or his friends stilled his heart.

“...that someone could use my love ta hurt my family, chills my bones. how can i… is there a method to keep jealousy at bay?” Sans’ friend shook his head and a light came into his eyes revealing his seriousness.

“My dear Sang, the same love that can be twisted, can keep you whole. You, and only **you** will be able to fight the demon jealousy when the time comes. The truth of the love in your heart will give you strength and be your guide, but only if you let it.”

Sans let his friend’s wisdom sink in as he finished his drink, he then rewrapped the sandwich platter and moved to return it to the icebox.

“Now, don’t worry about clearing up, I will take care of that.” The older gentleman said rising from the table, to begin clearing it.

“You go home my friend, and torment your brother no longer. It is getting late after all, take the rest of the sandwiches for the walk home and return the platter to Mademoiselle Muffet, s'il vous plaît. Glimpse your princess, but remember what I said.”

“...hilaire, how did you know i had been tormenting my brother,” Sans asked always amazed at his human friend’s insight.

“You and I my friend we are not so different, I used to take great delight in tormenting my sisters. At one time I too was, as you say… a little shit.” The older man said with a grin, then he winked at his young friend and said.

“Also, the whole time you were here, you did not **_once_ ** bring out your phone.”

 

* * *

 

 

**_Epilogue_ **

_In the multiverse sometimes he sings:_

_You were so young... And I guess I'm old_

_Open your eyes_

_I'll keep mine closed_

_I prefer standing... And you take your seat_

_I'll be wide awake_

_And you'll be asleep..._

_Poison_ by All American Rejects

 

Sans shivered slightly in the cool night air, his mismatched socks were damp, because despite the fact he could have taken a shortcut he chose not to; opting to walk the whole way home instead. He had cut through the park, walking in the grass past the pond, to get to Muffet’s Web Café. Muffet was not happy to see him in such a sorry state.

“Sans, you bonehead, so help me if you track mud in here,” she shook a couple of legs at him angrily. “The health department will be on me, like flies on honey.”

Sans stood balanced on the threshold propping the door open with his arm.

“...aww hell, don’t get your web in a tangle muffet. monsieur vivien-hilaire asked me to bring back the platter and thank ya for the sandwiches.” She blinked her eyes at him momentarily.

“Didn’t he like these? Usually he comes back with an empty platter.”

“...geeze miss muffet, ‘cus maybe he told me ta bring them home. will ya wrap them up for me pretty-please,” he begged, blinking his eye sockets at her; in an attempt to faux batting his eyelashes.

“Sans, you are a pain in my spinnerets,” she said taking the platter from him and walking behind the counter, as the young Agent gasped in shock.

“...such language, and in front of a mere youth, whatever would my brother say?” Muffet snorted.

“He should smack you. I can’t believe such an nice guy puts up with your shit.”

“... muffy you’re so mean, and here i brought you a present.” The spider mistress blinked at him again folding a couple of unoccupied arms across her chest, while wrapping the sandwiches.

“Oh? Hmm, is it what I think it is?”

“...welp, i had ta fight off a pack of cigarettes, but i’ve gotcha the cigar to prove it.” Muffet groaned, as Sans made a beautiful El Oso cigar appear, seemingly out of thin air. The restaurateur moved from behind the counter once more, bringing Sans a neatly wrapped and bagged bundle of sandwiches.

“Aww, my favorite stogie,” she grabbed for it only to have Sans snatch it away.

“So, what do ya want?”

“...muffy i’m hurt it’s a gift, but i wouldn’t mind you selling me a couple of those new Hibiscus Agua Frescas.”

“A couple as in three I’m guessing, fine. If you got the G’s then I got the teas.” Sans snickered.

“...muffy you know i’m good for it. but just two of the teas, and a triple milk caramel café for my brother.”

“You are so lucky I’m still open,” she grumbled moving behind the counter once more.

“...yeah, lucky,” Sans hummed, as pulled out his wallet still leaning on the door.

Fifteen minutes, two dirty socks and seven blocks later Sans arrived on his doorstep, carrying takeaway cups and the bag of sandwiches. He was about to knock, when the front door was opened by his elder brother. Papyrus was calling over his shoulder and did not see the younger Bones standing on the stoop.

“MY LADY, IF HE COMES HOME TEXT ME, HE CANNOT POSSIBLY STAY OUT ALL NIGHT.” Papyrus swung around quickly and if it was not for Sans’ ability to dodge, the siblings would have been soaked by the drinks.

“SANS, THERE YOU ARE… OH, THANK GOD. THERE YOU ARE.” Papyrus, who was carrying his brother’s jacket over one arm, took the drinks and bag from Sans, reached into the house and set them on the hall table; then swept his baby brother into a hug.  

“...hey ‘pyrus,” Sans said or rather tried to say, as his voice was muffled by his brother’s crushing embrace.

“BROTHER, I WAS SO WORRIED.” Frisk came running at the sound of joy and relief in Papyrus’ voice, and when she saw them standing there she embraced them both.

 

* * *

* * *

 

Gaël’s letter in English:

My dear cousin Vivien,

I hope this letter finds you well. I have found you a new customer, a trustworthy young man, though a bit on the shy side, perhaps you can make a new friend, who knows? I am confident you are the one who can help him get what he needs. I know the Americans have made it difficult to obtain kretek, well that is exactly what this skinny boy wants. His name is Sans and he is the younger of two brothers, the elder is named Papyrus; you will no doubt meet him as well, he is very protective of his younger brother. They are the agents and guardians of the Ambassador of Monsters. These fellows live not far from you near Mount Ebott. Do not let his appearance surprise you, the body houses the sweetest soul. Do not wait so long to write to me cousin, or at least telephone me so that I know you are well.

With deepest affection, your cousin,

Gaël


End file.
